


In the Thick of It

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: Parallel Storms 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ableism, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Chronic Illness, Deaf Character, Dean Has Powers, Dean and Kids, Dean is Floaty, Dean is Loved, Dean is a Good Friend, Dean is a Hufflepuff, Dean is a Sweetheart, Dimension Travel, Disability Community, Disability Transmuted Into Super Powers, Disabled Character, Disabled Dean Winchester, Dissociation, Dissociative Dean Winchester, Fans, Gen, Implied Time Travel, Medical Procedures, Miscommunication, Neurodivergent Dean Winchester, Not Really Fans More Like Friends But Generalizes to Fans, Parallel Life, Powers as Disability, Quantum Leap - Freeform, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Sign Language, Some angst, TW for ableism in chapter 8, Telepathy, Wholesome, Working With What You've Got, parallel worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: It's pretty simple, really. Dean has friends who aren't Sam. People who need friends as much as he does. And it helps.





	1. Setting the Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirensnares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirensnares/gifts), [Akumasfate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumasfate/gifts).



> This fic was in the pipeline, but the prompt "promises to keep" got me unstuck and through the first chapter. From DailyPrompt.
> 
> "don't be too afraid, too prideful, too bogged down with lies about how you're supposed to be an independent island, to let someone save you, or to show you the way to save yourself.
> 
> there are people I will likely never see again, but that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. in my body, on my skin, in some unnameable parts that I won't even try to pinpoint." - A friend of the writer whose words and central thesis here partially inspired this fic and this 'verse.
> 
> My brain does weird things with time and there's some time weirdness in this and I'm sorry and/or I also consider this something of a time travel 'verse because not all of the times line up perfectly and that was actually deliberate to a point.
> 
> Dedicated to sirensnares, one of my closest friends, without whom lots of my writing would never get done, or at least with a significant lack of encouragement behind it, and also inspired by Akumasfate, who inspired me to write more than a one-shot of "floaty Dean." :) And for J. who provided the quote in these notes and thus inspired about half this fic.

The truth of it is he doesn’t ever really leave Sam. In the end, Sam leaves him, and Sam thinks it’s fine.

And yes, he is leading a double life, doing double duty (or really well beyond double), making sure tons of people know where he is and that he still cares for them.

He still cares for them.

He remembers every one, the people he meets at night.

He remembers Sam too.

He’s a good big brother, dammit.

But he also knows Sam. He knows Sam has known where he’s wanted to be since they were kids: Out. Out of the life.

Out of his brother’s life.

There hasn’t been enough tying them together. Not enough for Sam to want to stay with him.

He stops looking to Sam, looks for the people who don’t want to be untethered, not from him. The people who are looking for him, too, instead of pulling away.

The truth is that after he’s done a deed for someone, lots of them can’t exactly come with him, and that hurts too.

He carries them with him all the same.

You see, each one is, in its own way, a promise that he keeps. Each time that he finds someone, they are someone he holds with him forever.

They may be coming from the worst circumstances imaginable, but in his times with Sam, he’s seen so many things, from violence to starvation, the effects of alcohol and the necessity of a hunter’s funeral.

He’s known werewolves that think they’re tame when they’re not, and brothers who think they’re unloved monsters when they’re not.

He’s seen a lot of things. And so have his friends.

*~*~*

When he’s found someone, they can always call. The quiet call drifts off towards him and snakes its way into his thoughts so that he knows, now, where he’s needed, where he has to go next to have the greatest effect. 

And sometimes they have ideas on how to help Sam, too, though he doesn’t ever tell Sam how he learned how to be a parent, that he learned it from kids and used everything he could from every source he had.

Sure, he messed some things up, but he was a kid learning from kids, back then.

And Sam, well, he won’t know how Sam feels about him if he never sees Sam again, he guesses.

A friend named Emmaline tells him he’ll see his brother again and he hides his eyes from her so she can’t see the way he fills with emotion when she says it.

She’s the one he goes to sometimes when he needs a pep talk about Sam being away, running from him at the first available opportunity.

When he needs to learn more sign, he goes to Connor, who he’s known since he was tiny and still not talking.

Thoughts, though, they just go where they need to go, and he’s gotten better and better at that. He learns sign to speed things up, but he doesn’t have to learn every spoken language under the sun to get things across. He just knows that if he does try to learn a little bit of the spoken or signed language, everyone feels included and appreciated by him.

And he appreciates them too. 

He is their friend. But they are his too.

He still goes at night, but during the long days he has alone now he tries to remember that they’re there, they’re there for him.

*~*~*

Emmaline eventually really has a bead on Sam. It’s kind of amazing and it helps him get out so many emotions about his little brother and even their dad. 

He thinks maybe one day Emmaline might “pull a Sam” and leave family too. He has to admit in Em’s case he totally sees why it makes sense to go.

*~*~*

Then one day Sam is actually back. The irony is that he needs his friends now more than ever. Sam is back for bad reasons, fire and death and they both need help. They need anyone and everyone who’ll listen, honestly, in their messed up, insular little world.

He has them and he wonders how Sam stays so calm without some kind of escape valve.

He guesses he’ll never know.


	2. Double Edged Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Dissociation in this chapter for real, brothers fighting/having miscommunication issues. Sorry all. I'll try to fix it. :)

Actually, it’s not that Sam’s calm.

It’s that Sam’s a damn good liar and has turned that on him.

It’s not like he doesn’t know. He knows.

They move through the formalities: “Nightmare?” 

“Mm.”

“Okay, Sam.”

_Lie to me. I know you will, so you might as well._

And he loves Sam, liar or not. It’s just that those feelings are really distant. All of his feelings are really distant.

He only knows because he knows what he should be feeling--relief.

He doesn’t feel relief. He just feels ( _fire_ ) numb.

Emmaline is graduating in time with Sam--no fire is going to get her, he’ll make sure. Just like he saved Sam, more than once now, if anyone wants to take away _any_ of his friends, he’ll know and he’ll be there in an instant.

The thing is there’s this distant part of him that wants to let loose all over Sam. Sammy. Poor Sam. He knows it isn’t the time, he’s got to be strong, he’s got to always be strong, as strong as he can.

Sam looks into his eyes, though, and his gaze doesn’t tell any lies. He knows Sam knows he’s floating off into the distance, thinking of all those kids.

*~*~*

“Sometimes you can’t do it all, Dean. I know. You know what else I know?”

“Huh, Sammy?”

“It’s shitty of Dad to always think you’ll pick up his slack, Dean.”

 _Oh,_ this _conversation_ , he says to himself.

But he supposes he has to have this conversation with Sam, even while half of him is somewhere else.

Pity it’s not like any of the kids learned to float to where he is.

“Okay, Sam. Well, you know what I know? All that anger, it’s gonna eat you up. It’s already been eatin’ you up and spittin’ you out like it owns you.”

“How d’you… Dean, you haven’t been angry at him, at anyone, a day in your life.”

He smiles a little, sad, but he lets Sam see a little bitterness. “That’s right, Sammy.”

“You just disappear,” Sam says.

“Takes one to know one.” Boom. Right in the chin. He sees it hit Sam hard. And he’s okay with that. He is.

*~*~*

There’s no “You did it first,” or anything childish like that, just miles and miles of quiet between the lake and Lucas--where he’s pretty sure Sam learns more about him than he’s known in his whole life and he can see the pieces slotting together in Sam’s mind--and the haunted aircraft from hell.

On the plane he floats to Connor’s. He lands at Gallaudet. He hums Metallica and lets a few of the lyrics stream into Connor’s mind with no sound.

 _You’re stressed_ , Connor signs.

“Sam’s home. It’s...it’s okay. Not really what I imagined.”

_What made that happen?_

“Long story. I don’t--is it okay if we’re just quiet? For a while? I met a kid like me, stressed til he stopped talking.”

Connor smiles. _You’re good at that._

He smiles back. "Yeah. I am."

*~*~*

He doesn’t really have favorites, more just people he’s known for longer. And there are new people, all ages, and he meets them and plays Fix-It whenever he can.

*~*~*

“Wherever you go,” Sam says, “You’re more there than here.”

“Sometimes,” he says.

“Yeah, sometimes. You have my back on these hunts?”

“‘Course I do, Sammy. I been balancing this a long time.”

So okay. Sure. He’s said what he’s felt like saying.

*~*~*

“Are they family?” Sam asks.

“Sort of, maybe. They’re like Lucas. Only….” He stops himself. “Hey. Stop askin’, willya?”

Sam nods, his face tight. “Okay.”

*~*~*

Shit.

Okay, fine. So Sam knows. Something. Sam knows something.

*~*~*

He goes and gets coffee before Sam is up. “Listen, I don’t want drama about this. But you gotta know, Sam, you’re important, you gotta know you were always important. It’s just…”

“I get it, Dean,” Sam says, gruff. “I know this life. And you know I left it. I’m here for you.”

“You’re here for Jess.”

“Yeah. I…” Sam pauses. “Yeah.”

“And yourself. All that anger.”

“Well, at least somebody is.”

There’s nothing left to say after that.


	3. Coming to Terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a little bit ahead of this, but I'm dealing with some outside stuff so I'll probably do the next upload after things are a little calmer. Gimme a day or so. :) However I do have a plan and there is more. (9/14/17)

How does Sam know? Well, because Sam just knows things, probably. They each have their own...flavor, or whatever, of the shiny, and he’s always known that. You can’t be a Winchester and completely escape the whammy. At least he’s turned his into something positive. Hasn’t he?

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Look, this isn’t one of those kinds of things. I just really actually owe you an apology. I’m not going to abandon them, not any of them. And I don’t know how you figured it out. I really want you to know--they’re important to me.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“If they’re important to you, they’re important to me too.”

“...What?”

“Just, they are. Will you tell me about it?”

“Sort of. Maybe. One day. How did you figure it out, Sam?”

Sam smiles, a little amused, a little sad. “You talk in your sleep, Dean.”

“Sam!” Dean’s smiling a little too now, but inside he’s feeling a little shaky.

“You’re a little transparent.”

“Listen, this apology is real. I haven’t always…”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah, Dean, you haven’t, but it was never your job. To do it all. To raise me.”

Dean nods, “And um...the...the…” ( _fire_ ) “Jess. I’m sorry about Jess.”

Sam sighs and closes his eyes. 

“Sorry, Sammy. Sorry. I mean, if there’s _ever_ a time I owe you something….”

“You can’t owe me her back, Dean.”

“I know.”

“Listen to me. You’re not that powerful.”

“Yeah.”

“But you are...you’re something, Dean, you’re....” Sam stops, putting a hand protectively on his arm. “Hey. Don’t float away. Not right now. Listen, I just meant… You’re my brother.”

He blinks at Sam. “Yeah,” he whispers, his voice cracking a little.

“And just...about Jess. There’s something important you should know.”

“Huh? Like what?”

“You would have loved her, Dean.” Quieter: “I know I put her in danger, Dean, it’s… She..just, you would have loved her.”

“I’m not a lech.” 

Sam laughs a little, like it’s that or crying. “I know. You’re always too busy.”

He grins. “Well not always. But a lot. Hey, Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean it. What I said.”

“I know, Dean. I meant it too.”

They settle into an easier silence. It’s just them and the car and the job, maybe for the first time since Sam got home. But…. it’s just there’s more to say after a while, a little more anyway.

“You’d love the kids too,” he says to Sam when they’re stopped in traffic. “They’re not really kids, actually, not anymore, but I just, well, you’d love them.”

Sam smiles, and he realizes suddenly he can see the sun in Sam’s bright eyes. Not like it’s blinding, just like it lives there.

“I know,” Sam says.


	4. Breaking Bread

“Sam doesn’t hate me!” he tells Emmaline that night. “It’s amazing.”

She smiles a little, in a way that says, _Of course_. “It’s not about hating you, Dean, it never was.”

He lets her hug him a little bit, just long enough, and when his eyes sparkle with wetness and one or two tears fall she doesn’t say anything.

*~*~*

Connor is similarly unsurprised and even a little bit amused. So are the others. But they’re gentle with him and his feelings. 

“We’re glad Emmaline could help,” they all say, “We’re always glad to help.”

“Sometimes I think...it’d be great if Sam met you all,” he says, tentatively. “I don’t know how to make it happen, but, well…”

But Connor reminds him it’s okay to have something for himself, and the others agree too, one at a time.

And actually, so does Sam.

“It’s okay, Dean. I get it. Know what else?”

“Yeah?”

“I give you crap, but you’ve never once not had my back on a hunt. So thanks.”

“We’ll figure it out, Sammy. I’m here for all of you.”

“I’m glad you have them,” Sam says.

And these are things he never expected to hear.

“Sammy?”

“Mm?”

“We’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah, we have. A lot’s happened, Dean.”

He meets Sam’s eyes and nods. “You ain’t kiddin’. Hey, come on, beanpole. I’ll buy you a salad.”

“Who’s it on this time?”

“Me.”

“Fair enough.”


	5. Lines of Communication

He doesn’t really know where they come from, not at first. But then he realizes at some point that a few of them are getting really good at predicting things that he and Sam do.

Where are they really from?

What the hell, how do they know things before he knows them? Even if it’s only sometimes.

Connor smiles a little. _We just know you, Dean. We know you. And don’t worry, because we love you too._

Dean smiles a little. “Yeah. I know that part.”

 _And Sam._ Sam’s name sign is an S and then a fist that opens fast, like a burst of anger. It fits him perfectly.

“You do? You haven’t met Sam.”

_Well, Sam is your brother. So of course. Of course we love Sam._

“Sam is like the sun coming out,” Emmaline says. “Sam is the sun.”

“He is for me,” he tells her.

“I know.”

*~*~*

Sometimes he feels like he’s just spinning in circles. He loves all of them but he does get tired and it’s weird when they know things that he has no idea about. Still, he knows they always mean him well and he would be a mess without his friends.

*~*~*

Emmaline hasn’t talked to her parents in about six months. This is the thing he’s always known in the back of his head would probably happen.

“Em, are you okay?”

“I mean, sometimes. It’s for the best.”

*~*~*

They’re looking--Sam’s looking for Dad, and he...he’s floating around Emmaline a lot.

“Sam,” he says one day, “What do I say to one of the kids if she...um…”

Sam blinks. They’re in the parking lot of a diner, and he knows Sam’s hungry and a little confused at being asked advice for this.

Sam pauses and sizes him up, takes a good long look at his face. “Did she run away?”

“Well, not in the ‘runs away’ sense like a kid. She’s one of the ones I see a lot. She just, she stopped talking to them.”

“Ah. Give it time, Dean. It needs time. A lot of time.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. At least I think I know.”

“Just be her friend.”


	6. Being Accountable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josie who appears in this fic is from earlier fics in this 'verse.

He feels like he’s floating around even when he’s on Sam time now. The air is cleared between them, or at least clearer than it’s been in ages. He lets Sam go on runs in the morning from their room and come back with the coffee and he spends a little bit of extra time with Emmaline while Sam is gone.

She smiles a little, sad but grateful. “You know, Dean, I kinda knew if he ever found out about me and my family he’d be cool about it,” she says. “My birthday’s next week--are you going to come by?”

“Come hell or high water. But if I’m covered in blood or monster guts you know why, right?”

“Yeah. And be careful! Thinking of us isn’t an excuse, okay?”

“Yeah, Em, I know.”

“We love you. Both of you. We don’t want a single scratch on you.”

“Young lady, if I didn’t know better I’d call that flirtin’.”

“But luckily you do.”

He laughs a little and thinks briefly of another time, another place, a young hunter girl and a family he hasn’t seen in years….

He pencils in Em’s birthday and even shows Sam where it’s written down in his notebook.

*~*~*

That night is a Tuesday and Dean won’t forget it for as long as he lives. He dreams of Josie, and when he wakes up he’s sweat-soaked and he can still hear her crying.

He can’t help it--he was expecting that kind of thing to come from Em, birthday or no. But it’s not. 

“Dean,” he hears a roughened, tired voice call him, “Dean, I’m sick and I don’t know what to do. Will you just talk to me?”

Actually, he thought maybe that Josie forgot all about him. It’s been a little while. He knows it’s her, knows her face like it was yesterday.

“I’m sorry for calling--for bothering you, Dean, I just…”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m just glad you did.” And he is. That’s not a lie. Dean doesn’t lie, not like that. Josie isn’t law enforcement.

“I can’t stop puking, my gut feels like it’s gonna tear itself apart, they say I might need surgery, Dean, and I just got scared.”

“Hey,” he says. And then softens his voice a little. It comes out closer to a whisper. “I know. I got you.”

“Is this okay? Is Sam okay?”

“Sam’s fine. Coffee run.”

“Does he hate us, Dean?”

Dean laughs a little, still quiet. “No, sweetheart. C’mon. I got you.” He holds her hair back. “I’m really glad you called me. When’s surgery?”

He pencils in Josie’s surgery, which thankfully isn’t on Em’s birthday.

When Sam gets back to the room, he shows what he’s scribbled down.

“Okay. Well as long as they understand about monster guts. We can try not to be hunting then but...well…”

“Hunting comes for us. I know. They know.”

“They’re good kids. People.”

“Yeah. They really are.”


	7. Going Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selectively mute Dean is my permanent headcanon, if you read my stories you can't escape this. I wanted this 'verse to stay really wholesome, but some of the stuff going on in my meatspace is probably reflected in these events. *shrug* It is what it is.

He is pretty happy with the way things are, actually. Something slots into place when even Josie, the first kid he ever met, is back in his life.

He’s that way. If you’re in his life, you’re in for good.

Not like Sam, who can just let go of things.

That still stings a little when he thinks it. And he knows it isn’t fair. He knows that he’s been well aware of when Sam needs space since they were kids. It’s just his brother’s way.

But it still hurts.

Even with Sam sitting across the room from him in the motel room, even when he shows Sam a piece of his schedule.

Sam might as well be far enough away, at least, that it still hurts.

“Sammy,” he says. And just the nickname helps a little. 

“Yeah, Dean?”

But he just lapses into silence.

“Dean?”

Shit.

Once he’s there, in the silence, he can’t pull himself out. Not right away. Not fast enough.

He sighs, pushing as much air and sound out as he can. Then he grabs for the little notebook he keeps in his pocket. 

_Sorry, Sammy_ , he writes.

Sam looks from the paper into his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Dean rolls his eyes a little and offers a bemused, tired and maybe self-depricating smile.

It will be.

*~*~*

He goes to Emmaline that night and they communicate mind to mind.

_Sorry to bother you. Sam. I just. It still hurts._

She sighs. _I know. I’m sorry. He did what he had to do._

_I know he did. Am I selfish?_

_Not really, Dean, what you feel is what you feel. It’s just that that counts for both of you._

_Yeah. I know._

_Hey. Come here._ She opens her arms and he lets himself go for a hug.

_Is this happening to me because I’m a bad person?_

_Dean, no. It’s just that people get to do their own thing._

He burrows into the hug and sighs. _I don’t know how you can talk to me when you understand Sam so well._

She smiles a little. _It’s because whatever Sam wants, it’s not because it’s your fault, silly. Hey. Gotcha._

_I know._

His chest hurts, and he stays with Em until the worst of the pain subsides a little bit. She brushes his hair back.

_You know...Sam probably wants you near him too if he helped stop your voice up. He probably feels bad._

Dean blinks. Oh.

_I’ll go home. Thank you, Em._

She smiles a little at him and he disappears.

*~*~*

He opens his eyes and it turns out Em is right, Sam is watching him, worried.

He grabs his pen and notepad from the nightstand. _Hey, Sam. I’m okay._

“Stressed?” Sam asks. His brow creases and those puppy dog eyes emerge.

_Sammy, I’m not mad at you._

He clears his throat. Nothing there yet. 

_It always comes back. Not stress--um…_

He realizes he doesn’t know what the hell to say about how he feels.

So he shrugs.

_It always comes back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am such a psychology dork.


	8. Hell is Other People

Sam is so quiet and gentle with him then. Like he knows that he’s really got to make sure he’s comfortable and wants--really wants--to stay. He can see the turnings of Sam’s mind a little better lately, and he knows from the way Sam _keeps_ watching him he feels responsible.

“Dean, I…” he starts, earnest and sad.

 _I’ll try to stay_ , he writes back, _And it’ll come back_.

He would sign with Sam, but, well, Sam only knows a tiny bit of sign. Less than he does.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “Um… Yeah, if you could… I’ll make it worth--I’ll make it better, okay?” And for once he can see the hurt in Sam’s eyes, the feelings behind what he’s asking.

It gets him right in the gut.

_Sam, you don’t have to do anything special. You’re home now and I’ve got you, we’ve got each other. I’ll try to stay._

He reaches out and puts a hand on Sam’s wrist, and taps it a few times.

“I’ve got you too,” Sam says. “I’m sorry, Dean, for the way things have been. I’ve got you, too.”

*~*~*

And for days, they do stay together. There’s no one to do the floating work but him, but during the day he is one hundred percent with Sam. And Sam takes on the work of making sure Dean gets what he needs while he doesn’t talk.

People think he is deaf and do really ableist things to him like scream in his face and act like he needs to be given a lollypop for daring to be out of doors. They don’t know he can hear what they’re saying to and about him, and it means that as ever when he is well and truly disabled he sees the absolute worst in people. 

But Sam’s there, playing backup, and he does great. _Sam doesn’t hate me, indeed_ he thinks.

He could get used to this.

*~*~*

Mostly he likes the quiet time, just him and Sam, passing his little notebook back and forth. They do some of the most important, quiet work they’ve ever done. He thinks maybe Em would be proud of him.

When his voice finally does come back, that’s an adjustment again too. 

They share a wry smile about it. 

Somehow the truth comes out a little bit better in print.


	9. The Birthday Party

The next time he sees Emmaline, it’s the night of her birthday. He can tell she’s feeling a little bit wobbly, but there’s two pieces of cherry pie set out when he gets to her.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey. Happy birthday.” Then he smiles a little. “I didn’t need a whole piece. I’ll share mine with ya.”

And yeah, they both feel like bursting into tears, but they make a good show of it. The pie is good.

“So I um…” he says.

“Dean. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Of course I would.”

“Yeah, it’s, um… Just, nobody called me. You know. It’s fine. It’s just that way. But you know. Nobody called me.”

He feels a little queasy. “Yeah…”

“Sometimes people are just that way,” they say, in almost perfect unison.

And then she does cry.

“Hey. Hey hey hey. Hey. Hey. You listen to me a second, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” she asks, a little watery.

“Everything you’ve told me, all your advice?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the shit. You really know what you’re talking about. You really understand people.”

She smiles a little. “Dunno about that. Sam’s a little...easy,” she says and then she blinks, “I mean, I don’t mean it like that, he…”

“You just understand him,” he says gently. “Sometimes I think I do, sometimes I don’t. But...If I didn’t have you… well… you’ve helped. A lot.”

“Dean, stop it. You’re really gonna make me cry.”

“Well I can’t always bring you stuff that easy, so I thought I’d just let you know… You’re important.”

“I don’t need stuff from you,” she says, “I just need…” she shrugs. “People who’d call on my damn birthday.”

He grins. “Or eat your pie, right? I mean, six in one…”

“You can eat my pie. I like you.”

“That’s what they all say,” he says, but his eyes are big and his cheeks puffed out a little so she knows he’s kidding. “You know, Em. I’ve met a lot of people, a lot of kids. And I’d help every single one. But not everyone calls me back. Not even a lot of ‘em.”

“Really? Are you kidding?”

“I’m dead serious.”

She lapses into quiet for a little bit and then she asks, “Hey, did Sam call you?”

“Nah. But you know? He doesn’t owe me that. I was actually gonna tell you something about that.”

“Yeah?”

“You think….like I’m starting to think….maybe I owe Sam.”

And that makes her cry a little too, and she doesn’t say why, but he doesn’t really need her to.

*~*~*

Connor shakes his head. _Listen_ he signs. _It’s not about going back into the past and owing someone. Sam’s an adult, right?_

Well. Yeah.

_So you just talk to him like an adult. I mean, and also Dean, you had a lot going on too, you know._

He blinks at Connor.

_Sam knows that. Does he act like you owe him?_

No. Sam really doesn’t act like he’s owed anything. The most he ever does is just…get sad.

_We all miss out on stuff. We all have ways the world disappoints us. Listen, I’m not trying to tell you anything about supercripping--in fact, don’t do that._

Dean grins. He likes the way Connor never beats around the bush. 

Okay, he signs.

_Just be real with him. And yeah, if you want to spend more time with him, do that. But if you dissociate--I mean if you start getting floaty and you can’t stop it, it’s not your fault. You know that, right?_

He’s not sure if he did know that.

He wonders if Sam knows that. Or if they’ll ever talk about it.

Probably not. They do do enough talking, but….

Yeah, probably not.

*~*~*

He can tell Sam is a little moody the next time he opens his eyes and sees his big-little brother’s brow is creased with whatever is bugging him.

“Hey. Sammy.”

“Oh. Hey, Dean.” Whatever it is, Sam’s trying to sweep it under the rug.

He makes an effort to meet Sam’s eyes. “Hey.”

They’re just quiet together for a long time, watching each other.

“It’s...it’s okay, Dean. Whatever it is.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t, Sammy,” he says.

There’s another long pause.

“Come sit here, Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow and then sits down next to Dean on the worn motel bedspread.

“I’m kind of a mess,” Dean says. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me. You hearin’ me, Sammy?”

“I...think so, Dean.”

“Not anyone else.”

“Well--there’s the kids--”

“Yeah, there’s the kids. They have their own lives. In their own worlds. Wherever they are. However they found me or I found them.”

“Yeah….”

“But you’re the one who’s here with me.”

“Okay.”

“Ferchrissakes they even have you orderin’ in restaurants for me like I don’t know what a burger is.”

Sam laughs. “Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“ _Hell_ , yeah, Sam. But the point is, you’re the one doin’ it and I wouldn’t let anybody else.”

Sam breaks into a grin. “Yeah, you’d probably--”

“I’d bodyslam any other motherfucker.”

“And I’d pay to see it.”

“Okay, Sam, that’s it for this moment of sharing and caring. I can’t do much more.”

“Not askin’ you to, Dean. Except, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”


	10. Coming Around Again

On the day of Josie’s surgery, which it turns out she does need, he swallows his trepidations, every single one, even the ones about doctors, and takes a melatonin. Sam makes himself scarce. Says something about sudoku and the library.

The truth is things are going better with Sam and he’ll be worried for his brother’s friend, too, so he doesn’t plan anything too intensive like, you know, solving a string of murders (Their lives are weird. They’d be the first to tell you that much.)

He gets there before Josie is wheeled into the OR and does a goofy dance-and-wave routine until she catches sight of him. “Hey. We’re right here. Well, I’m right here and Sam’s doing some extra Sudoku in your honor.” That makes her laugh. Mission accomplished.

“It’s a good thing they’re doin’ what they need to be doin’ for you, sweetheart,” he says. And it’s not the perfect thing, but it is something, and she sighs and nods. There is no perfect thing right now.

Dean stays all day, flickering in and out of view in the corner of a waiting room. He can’t get into recovery, but he’s able to find her exactly when he needs to--when she calls him again.

They’ve known each other a long time now, both of them gettin’ old and falling apart a little around the edges like people do when they’ve seen some real shit. He’d know her call anywhere.

*~*~*

That night he doesn’t meet any new kids, because he stays right with Josie. Exactly where he needs to be.

*~*~*

He visits every day she’s in the hospital without being called at all. He brings messages to her from Conner and Em too.

“I don’t know how any of that works but if we could I’d get you all in one room together.”

She smiles. “Yeah, Dean, but you like us one on one, just like you and Sam.”

He blinks. She kind of has his number.

“Fine,” he says and grins. “Maybe I do like it this way.”

“And we love you,” she says and yawns, right before she falls asleep.

Over twenty years playing this floating game and he still loves watching his people fall into peaceful sleep.


	11. Epilogue: Sam Winchester Patented Road Fuel (On the Road Again)

Sam’s coming in the door with coffee when he opens his eyes next.

“Cute,” his brother says. “You know, Dean…”

“Mm. Coffee. Then…” he gestures in a vague circular pattern. “Then your thing.”

He’s chugged half of his coffee before he talks again. “Okay. Yeah?”

“What you do is really important.”

“Mm--come again?”

“Don’t you think it is?”

“Well, yeah. They’re my friends.”

“That’s the thing. They’re all your friends.”

“Yeah. Every single one. One at a time, though. It’s--”

“It’s a lot of work. That’s all it is, though, Dean. One kid at a time. One hunt at a time. That’s all we can do.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah. Well. Things would get a hell of a lot more complicated if it was more than that.”

“I’ve enjoyed this year,” Sam says, “You know, getting to know your friends--from here. Getting to know what you do.”

Dean blinks and considers what to say. 

“I mean it. It’s important. It’s just as important as the salt and burns.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, Dean. Of course it is.”

Dean smiles. “Hey. Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam grins back. “I brought you an extra coffee.”

“A Winchester always knows when to bring extra road fuel.”

“Does that mean you think it’s time to get back on the road?”

He meets Sam’s gaze. “Yeah, Sammy, I think it is. You ready?”

“Hell, yeah. Dean, I was born ready.”

“That’s my boy.” And he really, really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> I hope you liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the end of this 'verse, and I've had my cry about leaving Dean and his best friends behind, but also don't quote me on this because I have a habit of not really being able to let go of my favorite universes. But for now...this is the end.


End file.
